


Coelacanth

by stuckinafernbush



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV Second Person, Pre-Sburb (Homestuck), Sadstuck, Self-Hatred, Swearing, but its not like bad its just completely reasonable imagery. anyways, nothing gory just reference to like. eating people. theres no good way of putting this sorry, the other alpha kids are mentioned, uhhh its not cannibalism but theres like cannibalistic imagery ?? sorry ????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinafernbush/pseuds/stuckinafernbush
Summary: Dirk Strider's bones are hollow and his skin is inedible. What a life he lives.
Kudos: 8





	Coelacanth

Just wait for it. You tell that to yourself, every day, several times. Patience is a virtue, as they say. You're not sure who says it really, but you've gathered that it's always been a pretty common phrase. Patience is a virtue, and virtue is rewarded. You already know what the reward is, and maybe that's why you're still here telling yourself these things. If you didn't know about it, you'd be significantly less likely to have any optimism at all - what you do have is already minimal, and you know this, but it's there, somewhere. You're not Jane or Roxy or Jake. You can't just walk because you were born. No, if you're going to walk you need a destination in advance. You have one, but it's so far you wonder how worth it it is really. Still, you've lasted fifteen years, walking the same halls of the same house and nothing more. You are not your friends, and thus far you have not needed to be them.

You're not Jane Crocker, who has a family, and is surrounded by other people who she could easily befriend. You're not Jane, who has had a goal in life since birth, no matter how facetious it is. You're not Jane, who has respectable hobbies and a comfortable life and free roam of the world and isn't limited to having only three friends. You're not jealous of Jane, and she didn't ask for her situation any more than you asked for yours. But you are different, and that's merely factual. You are not her, and she is not you, and you will never quite understand each other.

You're not Roxy Lalonde, whose charisma is unparalleled and whose optimism is deceitful enough that you could believe she had never experienced a single hardship in her life. You're not Roxy, who cares so much about her friends and is selfless enough to do just about anything they ask of her out of nothing more than love. You're not Roxy, who has her carapacians to take care of every day and does so without complaint, because even though they don't give to her she has so much compassion that she doesn't need anything in return. Maybe it's a good thing you don't have to deal with them, actually. Still, despite her being in a situation not too unlike your own, she turned out so different. It's for the better, though. Last thing you need to deal with is another you who's not quite you.

You're not Jake English, who is so jovially oblivious to damn near everything around him, and yet is able to come away from whatever monsters he lives with with body mostly (and attitude fully) intact. You're not Jake, who is so helplessly charming despite being so searingly uncool. You're not Jake, who is so willing to try anything no matter how dangerous it is or how stacked the odds may be against him, to the point it's impossible not to want him to emerge victorious. While you don't exactly want to be him either, even you can't deny he's inherently lovable. Either way, he's another person you'll never be able to fully comprehend, and another person you sometimes think about not being.

You're Dirk Strider. Dirk Strider, who has naught going for him but his mind - your intellect is no small feat, in fact you're loath to admit it may be one too large for you. You know this. You have your brain, and you have the other version of your brain that you created two years ago just because you could, and just because you were that lonely. You're alone in the world, and no matter how populated it was that would remain the truth. For you are not nice to look at nor to eat. Most would be put off from just the sight, thinking no taste could possibly be worth the risk of trying to ingest something with such an unappetizing appearance. Those who dare take a bite will realise soon enough that your skin is not fit for human consumption, and give up. Then the last remaining few who managed to sink their teeth deep enough to pierce you will find that this venture was no more than a waste. All this trouble for such a sickening flavour. Most will spit you out immediately, not caring to hide their disgust. Any who are polite enough to swallow will throw you up in due time, and they won't look back.

If nothing else, it means you're less of a prey animal. Not that it matters much, with no real predators around. But if there were any, they'd go for you last. What an achievement that is.

You look out the window. Down. You think about it. You think about it a lot, and you're thinking about it again. But you've never much cared for the water, and if you have the choice (which you do, of course) you'd much rather it were another way. You never did complete your ranked list, but you know drowning is one of the least preferable options. It's accessible, sure, you have fuck all _but_ water. While its lack of uniqueness might be fitting for you, the selfish part of you (which is admittedly the majority of you) wants something a little more interesting. The feeling of drowning is one you can't quite form an opinion on - it could be a terrible final feeling, or it could be very cathartic. You ask yourself, _wouldn't anything feel cathartic?_ In the end it doesn't matter how. You'll be dead. What matters is that you had the choice, and that _you_ were the one who controlled that last moment.

But for now, you're waiting. Waiting, until you can see them. Waiting until the day you see land for the first time, until the day you find and are found. Maybe it's better if you aren't, if you live (or die) without ever having to meet anyone. You keep waiting. For their sake more than yours. Even if you wanted to stop waiting, it wouldn't happen. Your bones are hollow, and they're not going to break.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i think abt that part in dirk's pesterquest route where he finds out he kills himself and is unfazed by it. sometimes i cry
> 
> this is my first finished hs fic (i started one before it actually but it's still a work in progress since it's a bit longer - i wrote most of this in one night lmao) so im sorry if its a little ooc or anything !! i always thought i would never write homestuck bc most of the characters (especially dave and dirk) would be a bitch to write yet here i am with my completely dirk-centric fanfic to kick it off


End file.
